A Chance Encounter
by yayme2012
Summary: Bella thought she would be with Jacob forever. A chance encounter with a certain stranger on a rainy day makes her rethink her choices. AH AU. Oneshot.


_Summary: Bella thought she would be with Jacob forever. A chance encounter with a certain stranger on a rainy day makes her rethink her choices. AH AU._

_A/N: I do believe this is one of my longest pieces, and one of my best. I fancy that I sound a bit British in this._

_The story behind the story: A brief idea I had January. It was in progress for about a month or two. Then it went on hiatus for about four more. I picked it up again in late June, ignored it until July when I sent it off to friends and revised it again._

_The story is continued by two other pieces: Fairytale, published relatively soon after this, and Expectations, which is still a work-in-progress._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or the song lyrics. In addition, none of the views expressed here on relationships, marriage, coffee, Jacob, depression, jackets, numbers, rings, or human Edward's eyes are my own._

**A Chance Encounter**

Bella's POV

"_The taste of your breath, I'll never get over.  
The noises that you made kept me awake.  
The weight of things that remained unspoken  
Built up so much it crushed us every day."_

-Maroon 5, Won't Go Home Without You

She had always known it would end. Maybe not now, maybe not at this point in her life, but she knew it would end. Maybe over a silly little thing, maybe over a huge, Grand Canyon-sized ordeal, either way it would end.

She had always known it would end, yet she cried all the same.

It had started last night. Bella had been up late, finishing some papers for the office. She sat in the office of their small apartment, stacking and scribbling on the sheets. The dim bulb shone overhead, no brighter than the dull early-spring starlight, illuminating the papers a coworker had mishandled.

And then the door flew open. Jacob.

And who was Jacob, exactly? She would say he was the love of her life, but that sounded a bit cheesy, and, in any case, it wasn't true.

Jacob was the one constant thing in her life. Through different jobs, different apartments, different cities, he was there for her. They had been steadily dating, if you could call it that, through high school and college. Now, Bella was accustomed his every mood. She decided a while ago she liked the whole best friend-boyfriend thing.

"It's just comfortable," she once told one of her friends over coffee. "I don't have to worry about anything."

Yes, she didn't have to worry. But worry she did.

Bella had always been a bit insecure, and, for some reason, Jacob brought that out in her. She worried whether she had made a good dinner, whether he would like her newest dress, whether they would keep dating…

Don't get me wrong, she loved him. She loved spending time with him. But in the back of her mind, she had a niggling doubt.

So, where was I? Ah, yes, Jacob had just walked in.

"I'm home," he cried after shrugging of his jacket, and Bella blearily rubbed her eyes. She stood and rushed to hug him, but he waved her off.

He sat in their comfy armchair, the one a little worse for the wear, but comfy nonetheless. "Good day at work?" she asked.

"Mmhmm," he nodded quietly. There was an awkward moment.

"I'll make dinner," she told him, jerking her head towards their small kitchen. He shook his head. God, he seemed tense tonight. Was he… was he going to break up with her?

Everything had been going right. Did she do something wrong? She just couldn't take it if he left.

"Wait a second," he told her, and she stepped back, worried. After jumping out of his chair, he reached into his pocket and went down on one knee. No, no, anything but this…

And then Jacob pulled out a ring box. All her thoughts stopped. He had mentioned this, and she had shrugged it off. Didn't he know how she felt about this?

"Babe," oh, how she hated that nickname, "will you marry me?" he asked with hope in his eyes. The ring box opened with a small pop. Inside sat a ring that, if it didn't symbolize the end of Bella's freedom, would have been gorgeous. There was a moment of absolute silence, then she promptly burst into tears. He pulled her into an embrace, wiping away her tears. He seemed oddly happy considering she was turning him down.

"Shhh, shhh," he told her, patting her back as he slipped the small loop of offending gold onto her finger. Bella stepped back and peered at it in horror. Her lips mouthed an 'O' of shock.

"And Emily's going to help us do the wedding, and Billy's coming down for the weekend, and-" Oh, so he thought those were tears of joy. This would be much harder to explain. She tuned him out. She just couldn't handle this. This young, getting married? After everything in the family? Preposterous, ridiculous, ludicrous. She realized that this wedding meant the world to him, but she couldn't do it. She just couldn't.

She stepped out of the protective circle of his arms. "I'm sorry."

Jacob looked down at her and gave a little frown. "Sorry for what? We'll be together forever." He stepped towards her, but she backed away again. Wasn't she happy to see him?

Bella took a deep breath. And it all came out. "…I just don't think you're the person I want to marry, and I know we've been together for a really long time now…" Thoughts of Renee and Charlie filled her head.

She could give him one thing: he was a good listener. He listened to her rambles on the evil institute of marriage for about five minutes before snapping.

"I'm not ready for this, and have you seen how high the divorce rates are? What if I regret it, I'm not saying I will, but still-"

"Have you even considered how I feel?" She paused in her tirade to hear Jacob's cry. Tears began to slip from his eyes as well. Tears of rage, regret, and remorse. The three R's of the real world.

"We have been dating for… let's see now, three years? We're close. Closer than close. We're practically best friends. No, we're like an old frickin' married couple!" He was shouting now, and Bella backed up as internal alarms sounded.

"Don't you touch me," she whispered, pronouncing every word. There was now only the sound of their breathing. His was panting, and hers was a degree short of hysterical. She vaguely wondered if anyone would hear her scream. He always had such a temper.

"I wouldn't dream of it." He pronounced each word just as sharply, measuring out malice in each syllable. He stepped away from her and stomped into the other room. A rustling could be heard as Bella stood shocked.

"Where are you going?" she asked as he reappeared, holding a suitcase filled to the brim with clothing and other personal belongings.

"Out," Jacob said with the air of an indignant teenager. He was throwing a temper tantrum. What was this, his first day of school? She let out a burst of laughter at his sulking expression, but it came out nervously, instead of blasé as she intended.

Both of them sniffing, they awkwardly embraced, Jacob's suitcase between them like so many bad feelings. Maybe they could make this work, maybe they could get married after all. But he pulled away, and the moment was gone.

"I was thinking we could take a break," he started cautiously. "You know, think things over. Rearrange priorities." As appalled as Bella was to the idea, she found herself nodding along with him.

"Okay," she told him quietly, and he approached the door. He looked back a last time (for the last time?). She watched him go without a sound, his rolling bag thump-thumping down the stairs, an oath muttered at the bottom. There was a pause and grunt as he lifted the bag into his car. A door slammed shut. A car screeched down the street.

And then silence.

She sat by the window longer than necessary. They had taken "breaks" a few times before. Usually initiated by him, too. They always lasted less than a month- Jacob had joked that they couldn't live without each other. It would just be like that this time, wouldn't it? For some reason, Bella had a feeling it wouldn't.

The thought of that was too hard to bear. Bella crawled into bed, and did not emerge for two days. Her tears were her background noise. Her face was constantly red. Her bed sheets were soaked.

A noise rang loudly, shattering her depressed thoughts. Bella looked about in a daze. Scrambling to her feet, she realized this was some kind of announcement. What was it? The telephone? Her computer? Oh, the door bell. She sighed and walked over to the closet.

She donned her bathrobe and bunny slippers. Racing to the front door, she suddenly caught her reflection in the hallway mirror. A woman she didn't know stared back at her. She looked weighed down with responsibilities, a poor girl playing the part of a burned-out housewife. Funny, as that was what she was trying to avoid by turning Jacob down.

The visitor had become impatient, clanging the brass knocker on the assumption that the doorbell didn't work. She pulled the door open and a mailman stood there, poised mid-knock. She grumbled at him and bent down to pick up the package lying on the ground. He stared at her for a moment, and she grumbled something like, "What do you want?" He looked taken aback and stared again.

Still grumbling in exhaustion and anger, Bella dropped the package by her bed and collapsed into it.

During that night of sleeplessness, thoughts flitted in and out of her head like so many buzzing bees. One thought did stick: It's _not_ the end of the world.

* * *

On the third day, she got up and went about the remnants of her life with Jacob, sweeping through the piles of tissues and trash. She needed to do _something_… she might as well use cleaning as a replacement for therapy. This was _not_ the end of the world, she told herself sternly. It was _not_. She was getting better. She even had her own mantra.

Bella walked into the closet to start over her life, starting with her wardrobe. She wore this dress on her first date. This shirt was a Christmas gift from him. This was his favorite pair of jeans on her.

Frowning, she stared at the growing pile of rejects. Was there _anything_ not tainted by the memory of him?

Bella came to the back of her closet eventually. Almost no clothes remained. She abruptly remembered receiving a package yesterday, and she went back to the bed to open it. She ripped it open eagerly, throwing out the packing peanuts, and pulling it out-

And there was a jacket. _The _jacket. The gorgeous one she had saved up for, the one she wore when she was feeling sad, the one that cheered her up. The one she wore while drinking coffee, on gray November days when the sky cried with you. She thought she had lost it back at her mother's house... all the way last spring.

She dug through the box again, finding a note at the bottom.

_Bella,_

_I found this when I was cleaning out the attic. I thought you would want it back._

The rest of the note described her mother's daily happenings and ordinary dramas. It was signed at the bottom: _Lots of love, Renee_.

She immediately slipped it on. Digging her hands into the familiar pockets, she felt more at ease than she had in a while.

Her stomach rumbled eagerly. She wanted to go _out_, she realized. After dressing and throwing on some shoes, she pounded down the stairs and began walking.

It was a February afternoon, with skies much more grim than her mood. The sidewalks were slick and icy, not exactly the best terrain for Bella. So instead of braving the harsh weather, she ducked inside a coffee shop.

She felt instantly at home. They had real people working behind the counter, how nice! And fresh pastries, and yummy sounding custom coffees. She was glad to have stumbled upon this hidden treasure.

After receiving her drink, she turned to leave the store, her head down, memorizing the repeating floor patterns. Bella didn't even look up until-

_Splash. _Her coffee had jumped out of her cup and onto the floor and onto a young man around her age with bronze hair. Her mouth was hanging open in what she was sure was a _very_ attractive cringe.

"I am _so_ sorry," she muttered, grabbing the napkins sitting on the closest table and mopping up the mess she had made on the poor man's shoes.

"It's fine," came an answer from above, and then her eyes met the most fascinating pair of green eyes she had ever seen. It was a dark, sea-like teal, swirling with depth. It was a vibrant, light-reflecting mint, buzzing with life like freshly mowed grass. It was a dry, desert green, the color of a proud cactus standing tall. It was a wet, soaking fern crouched low in rainforests.

It was all of these, and none of these. If you asked Bella what color they were, she probably would responded with an appreciative sigh.

So, after being stunned into silence by those eyes, Bella continued to hover over the young man's, dare I say boy's, shoes. He waited a moment, then chuckled. "It's fine," he repeated again, and she rose, embarrassed.

"Sorry," she told him again, offering a napkin. He gave her a small smile, and proceeded to mop up the remainder of his coffee, which had also spilled. Bella blushed again.

"I'll buy you a new drink," she found herself offering, while another part of her mind scolded her. _Jacob will expect you home soon, _it nagged. Then she realized: Jacob _wasn't _expecting her at home. He wasn't there. Bella felt overcome by grief for a moment. But she beat that part down and followed the man to the counter. The girl behind the counter gave her a pointed stare, but she didn't seem to care.

Bella ordered quietly. The young man behind her- she _still_ didn't know his name- said he would like the same thing. She quirked an eyebrow and he shrugged.

"My usual."

Strange how a simple connection between strangers can make your heart beat.

They slipped into the nearby booth. Bella reflected on how she had never shared coffee with a stranger. A stranger. She didn't quite like that phrase.

"I'm Bella," she told him, trying not to stick her hand out too awkwardly. He gave her a small smile and a firm shake.

"Edward," he said, and she smiled, too.

"You seem to be in a marginally better mood," Edward observed. "You looked absolutely depressed when you first came in here.

"I am," she told him quickly, then blushed with embarrassment. Way to make yourself look good, Bella.

"Want to talk about it?" he offered.

She didn't really want to, but abruptly found herself opening her mouth and letting it all out. "You see, my boyfriend Jacob and I have been together for five years now…

* * *

It turned out this Edward fellow was a good listener, too. Her story carried over a period of no less than one and a half hours and not once did he yawn or feign polite interest. He was captivated by her life, and it showed.

And as soon as the words had gushed out, the stream dried out. Edward stared at Bella for another moment after she had finished.

"Sorry," she told him.

"Don't be," he said breathlessly, and she briefly wondered if she had the same effect on him as he did on her, but swatted the thought away.

"And you?" she asked, reaching for his hand across the table without thinking about it. Their hands fit together perfectly. "Girlfriend at home? Happily married wife?"

He sucked in a deep breath and looked down at the table, pretending to be interested in the patterns laid out on its surface. He blew it out with a loud sighing noise.

"Want to talk about it?" she offered as well.

He shook his head vigorously. "Not now. It was just a… miscommunication."

_Miscommunication_. What kind of relationship was ended due to a miscommunication? Of course, there had to be something more. But she wouldn't pry now.

Trying not to look too eager, she teased, "You could at least tell me her name."

"Tanya," he said after a while. "Her name was Tanya." He took a long swig of coffee. The corners of his mouth fought a grimace.

There was silence. Bella didn't fancy the idea of asking any more about it; he seemed bothered enough by her name. So instead, she asked about his life, his job, his favorite things, his apartment…

And it turned out they had very much in common, though I won't bore you with the details. They talked for literally hours and they still hadn't covered everything yet.

Edward glanced at the clock suddenly. "Shit," he swore under his breath.

"Oh?"

"I'm… late for work."

"Oh, right." Bella suddenly realized that normal people would've been at work over four hours ago.

"Shit," he swore again, quickly gathering up his things.

She stared up at him, a twinge of regret filling her chest. She rose to shake his hand, which turned into an awkward hug.

"So… see you around?"

"I'll give you my number," he proclaimed, pulling a napkin off the table. Edward rifled through his bag before finding a suitable pen and then proceeded to scribble down his number.

She took it, crumpling it in her jacket like she got numbers every day.

"I'll call you," she promised, though she didn't really mean it. Of course she wouldn't call him. There was too much risk, and the wound of Jacob was too fresh.

He smiled and left, taking part of her heart with him.

* * *

_No. This isn't the right thing to do._

She sat in the middle of her room next to her rejected pile of clothing. The blessed and hellish number sat at her feet. The phone lay next to her.

_I won't do it._

She picked up the phone and dialed the first three numbers before something came over her and she chucked the phone under the bed.

_I _shouldn't _do it. Besides, what would Jacob say?_

She had to stop doing that. Comparing what Jacob wanted to what she wanted. And what she wanted right now was to pick up the phone and call Edward.

_Don't. Do. It._

What the hell, Jacob wasn't here anymore… he couldn't tell her how to run her life. She was halfway to the bed when-

_No, Bella, you are not picking up that phone._

_But what if it's a good thing? Change could be good, _a small voice said before it was quashed by the louder one.

_You are NOT calling him. No way._

Bella stared at the crumpled napkin for minutes more, the clock ticking away at her resolve. Sighing, she retrieved the phone from its hiding place under the bed. Slowly at first, she dialed the number.

A million thoughts and worries flew through her head. She almost hung up the phone twice, but the steady dial tone convinced her otherwise. Hope and anxiety twisted together like her thoughts. Then again, she _did_ have nothing to lose.

Her fingers traced the inky pen marks of the number rapidly, as if when she stopped, the numbers would break free of the page. All thoughts ceased as the increasingly louder tone stopped, and Bella held her breath as a single voice spoke:

"Hello?"


End file.
